


Something Stronger

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager - Jean Le Carré
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, The Night Manager - Freeform, What am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: It's your last night at Jonathan's hotel. If ever you were going to make your move, it has to be tonight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. I started rewatching TNM as I have a trial of Amazon Prime, so.... yeah.

_ Last night. _

This was your last night, and your last chance. It was now or never.

You paused at the door to your hotel room, hand on the antique-style key below the brass knob. One of things you loved about this hotel was the old-fashioned touches. The brass fittings. The high ceilings. The traditional high tea served mid afternoon.

_ And the attentive staff. _

A translator for films and video games, you were habitually a night owl and your hours seemed to marry up well with those of the Night Manager on staff, Jonathan Pine.

When you couldn’t sleep, you threw on jeans and a loose jumper and sat in the spacious, plush lounge off the reception area, curling up on the huge chesterfield sofas with your laptop and headphones.

You’d first noticed him clearing up after a particularly amorous couple, after midnight last week. His movements were precise and grateful, his lean form outfitted perfectly in the suit - bespoke perhaps, with his height.

“I’m surprised they took a break to drink the coffee,” you observed as he stacked saucers on a silver tray.

His low chuckle told you he’d heard, and he glanced over. Your eyes met, his a clear, ocean blue. His sunkissed-gold hair, neatly combed, curled over his forehead. “Can I bring you anything, madam?”

His voice, a swig of James Bond with a dash of sin, washed over you, curling low in your stomach. You let your gaze rove over his hands as he worked; wide palm, long fingers.

“Tea would be great, thanks.”

He returned five minutes later with another silver platter, holding an ornate porcelain teapot, single cup and saucer. He poured the tea like a pro, not a single drop spilled. “Milk, sugar?”

“Milk and one. Thanks.”

He stirred the steaming liquid in the dainty cup with a tiny silver spoon, setting in on the saucer.

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, madam.”

He ghosted off and you turned to see him back at the reception desk. The lighting in the reception area was low, but he was backlit by the small office behind the welcome desk, the light picking out the gold in his hair, highlighting his angular, handsome features.

He wouldn’t look out of place on a  _ runway, _ but here he was, hidden away as a Night Manager in a Swiss hotel.

******

You blinked the memory away and turned the key in your door. The hallway yawned ahead of you and you could just see the beginnings of the beautiful staircase complete with huge, winding bannister, cherrywood engraved with vines.

In a moment of madness, you’d slipped on the one nice dress you’d packed, planned for the conference dinner that was cancelled last minute due to an issue with the catering. The baroque fabric fitted you well, the pattern of gold and copper diamonds interweaving. The hem came to your knees and underneath you wore plain black lace.

You’d bought it years ago, and wore it mostly for yourself, now. God knew your loser boyfriend, recently dumped, hadn’t appreciated it.

Maybe the Night Manager would.

_ Stupid, _ you thought to yourself, but you pocketed the fancy antique key and made your way down the stairs anyway. You had nothing to lose. After tonight, you’d be an ocean away from the tall man in his beautiful suit. He’d never look at your with those bottomless eyes again, never pour you tea as if you were a Duchess perched on a silk pillow instead of a geeky translator in sweatpants.

You reached the bottom of the staircase and spied him at the desk, talking to someone on the phone. He started to hang up, and you lost your nerve.  _ No. _ You should run back to the safety of your room and call up your favourite film on your laptop, and go to bed. 

As you hesitated, torn, Jonathan lifted his gaze and saw you.

He bobbled the handset of the phone and it was gratifying enough that you took another step down.

“Miss….” He recovered quickly. “Good evening.”

You glanced at the clock hanging above his head. “Hi.” You reached the desk and looked at him over it. His suit was black today, and the white shirt and tie he wore were impeccably neat, as usual. You’d fantasised about unlooping that tie. About unbuttoning that prim shirt and spreading your hands over his bare chest. About hearing his breath hitch as your hands dipped lower, over his taut abdomen and beyond the line of his leather belt.

“What can I do for you?”

He was the picture of professional composure and your heart pounded.

_ What do you think you’re doing.  _

_ Idiot. _

He could be married. With children. He could be gay for all you knew.

Whatever his marital status or his sexuality, he was  _ at work _ and did not have time to be seduced by an amateur like you. What had seemed like an exciting idea in the safety of your room now seemed small, and silly.

“I, er, was meant to be going to a fancy dinner, but it was cancelled,” you blurted out, for the lack of something better to say.

“That’s a shame. I’m sorry. Perhaps… some tea?”

He’d make it perfectly, you knew. “Maybe… something stronger?” Something to quell your embarrassment at thinking you could somehow seduce this man.

“Of course, madam. Take a seat?” He gestured to the area you favoured.

You sat down on your usual chesterfield, awkward as hell. You were all dressed up with nowhere to go, the lounge empty except for you.

_ What did you think would happen? He’d just jump you and start ripping clothes off everywhere? _

The “getting to the sex part” was the part you hadn’t planned. Dumbass.

“For the lady.” Jonathan set down a cocktail in a long, tall glass. It smelled faintly fruity, with a bite. You sipped and the sweetness exploded on your tongue.

“Perfect.”

He inclined his head slightly with a smile. “We have a very talented bartender.”

“It’s my last night here,” you began as he went to move away.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?”

His brow furrowed momentarily. “Of course.”

You sat back, breaking eye contact. The lounge was quiet as a graveyard, you and Jonathan the only people you could see. 

“I’m sorry.”

He moved to sit next to you on the Chesterfield, leaving a polite distance between your bodies. “What could you _possibly_ need to be sorry for?”

You rolled your eyes, relaxing a little. “I don’t know. I came down here full of piss and vinegar, thinking ...”

He wet his lips and your gaze followed the lightning-quick appearance of his tongue. “Thinking...what?”

“About you.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you for a moment that stretched. You sipped at your cocktail, expecting him to leave any second,obviously disgusted by what you’d suggested.

He didn’t move.

“And…. If I may ask, what sort of thoughts did you have, madam?” he asked softly, his voice low and intimate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between you and the Night Manager.

You almost bobbled the tall cocktail glass in your hand. “I, ah…. You know what. I’m going to go to bed. Thanks for the drink. This has been… awkward.”

As you rose to leave, Jonathan set a gentle hand on your arm. “Would you feel better if I went first?”

You replayed his words in your head but still didn’t understand them. “If you went first for what?”

He shifted his posture slightly so he was turned toward you. In the low light of the lounge, his eyes were dark, the angles of his face lit by the low lamps by the sofa you shared. “If I were to tell you what I’ve been thinking about you.”

All the moisture evaporated from your mouth. Your pulse jumped.

You sat stock still, daring not to move.

Jonathan’s gaze dropped to your lips. “What if I said I’d thought about your mouth. How it would taste. How your hair would feel in my hands as I held it back to devour your neck. How you might feel under me on the desk in my office as I ravished your body. How I would make you whimper. And then scream.” He drew back, adjusted his tie. “But of course, that wouldn’t be proper. Would it. But you’d still enjoy it.”

_ Jesus. _

He’d worked you into a lather with just a few words. 

You swallowed hard, your heart beating hard. 

“I….”

“Your turn,” he prompted gently.

You sipped the cocktail, hoping the extra jolt of alcohol would give you a little courage in your veins.

“I…. thought about kissing you. Sliding…. My hands under your shirt. Undoing your tie.” You glanced around the lounge, but it was still empty. No surprise at after midnight, but still nerves tickled under your skin.

“Go on,” he prompted, his poet’s mouth a serious line, his pupils wide and dark, ocean blue ringing them.

“Stroking….”  _ God, _ he was really going to make you do this, wasn’t he? “My hands over your chest. And lower.”

“Excellent start.” He slid a little closer, cupped your face in one large, warm hand. “Perhaps a little taste to warm up for later?”

If you’d been thinking straight, you would have politely thanked him for the nightcap before heading back to your bed.

Alone. 

But your hormones were on overdrive and he’d painted such a picture in your head and stoked a fire lower in your body. You were done thinking. Youonly wanted to feel.

You tugged Jonathan closer and pressed your mouth fervently to his. The faint stubble on his jaw was rough, his mouth warm and pliable. 

Your tongue touched his and you fell deeper into the kiss, swallowing his rough, low growl of satisfaction. He tasted of citrus and the tang of strong coffee, and you were immediately hooked on his flavour.

You were no woman of the world, but neither were you a virgin. You’d definitely kissed men before, but this kiss… it rocked your world. Pleasure shot up your veins like a drug. You drowned in each other as he plundered your mouth, stroking the silky insides with his tongue. The tips of your breasts hardened and ached as you pressed them against his chest, needing so much more than just lip contact.

At what point you surfaced, you had no idea, but it seemed like you’d kissed for hours. All that time, Jonathan’s hands had remained polite, one at your jaw and the other at your waist. He’d had the opportunity to cop a feel, and hadn’t. 

His gentlemanly behaviour was at odds with the words he’d whispered about taking you on his desk, but you liked the contrast.

He tipped his forehead to touch yours for a second, and then slid a keycard from his pocket, offering it to you.

“If I find you in my quarters when I finish at five, I will do everything I promised to you and more. You will be completely mine. Do you understand?”

Coherent thought was no longer possible. 

You took the card, your hand trembling slightly.

“If, however, you decide that this is not what you want, you may check out as usual tomorrow and leave the keycard at reception.”

You nodded slowly.

Jonathan searched your gaze, then gently tipped up your chin and covered your mouth with his again. 

When his tongue touched the sensitive spot just inside your bottom lip, you distantly heard your own breathy moan. Your pulse scrambled as he moved to kiss one cheek and then another. He kissed your eyes closed, and then kissed his way down to your neck.

Your head fell back, weightless, in sheer pleasure, your pulse dancing eagerly at every touch of his lips to your skin. 

“Until five, then,” he whispered, his voice tickling at your ear. 

You sat rooted to the spot, unable to move, pinned by his cerulean gaze, dark with lust.

“I hope I’ll find you in my bed. Madam.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm. So this was gonna be a 3-parter but then I had more to say!

At 4.50am you paced in Jonathan’s quarters. Two adjoining rooms made up his living area, the larger room boasting a desk, TV and corner sofa with mini fridge, and the smaller room containing a king size bed with huge plush heabdboard and adjacent en suite bathroom; all sleek chrome and slate grey tiles.

You tapped the keycard against your palm and checked your watch again.

Should you stay or go?

He had made you wet just with words hours earlier, but now you’d started to lose your nerve again.

You sat up on the sofa, wishing you just  _ fucking make a judgement call. _

Then the door buzzed and you sat stock still. He’d arrived.

The call had been made for you, looked like.

He strode into the room, all lazy, coiled power. His suit jacket hung open, his tie loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt popped. His hair was mussed, like he’d run his hands through it, and as he crossed towards you, you caught the faint tang of coffee and the bite of citrus in his scent.

“Madam,” he whispered. 

“I.. What do I call you?” You crossed and uncrossed your legs. How was someone meant to sit when they were about to be wickedly ravished by someone they barely knew?

“Jonathan.”

He unlooped his tie and tossed it to you. You caught it, surprising yourself.

The glint in his azure eyes was wicked and he held out a hand in invitation.

“Come to bed with me. Let me love you between my sheets. Spread out on my desk. Against my bedroom wall. Let me see all of you.” When you placed your palm in his, he tugged you gently towards the bedroom door, then yanked you against him, kissing you fiercely, his lips claiming yours, hot, fiery, expectant. You kissed all the way to bed, embracing,, nipping at each other, Jonathan’s tongue hot inside your mouth, explorative, his kisses mimicking the act you hoped was in your near future.

You fumbled to push his bedroom door all the way open, and, mid kiss, you half fell, half sat on to the huge bed together.

Breathless,  you wound your arms around Jonathan’s neck, breathing him in, pulling him close so your bodies fit together, as close as possible through your clothes. His kisses and his scent and the  _ feel _ of him and his voice, James Bond dipped in sin, evaporated any self-consciousness you’d felt earlier.

Tonight was the only chance you’d get to feel this man under you, on top of you. Your only chance to feel him buck into you and shudder inside you. You’d grab that chance with both hands.

You felt the hard ridge of his erection rubbing against the sweet spot between your legs, and you gasped against his mouth as he nipped your lower lip. “Touch me,” you urged him. “Please. Everywhere.”

Jonathan smiled wickedly. “As you ask so nicely.”

His hands slid warmly down your back, cupping your behind, bringing you flush against him. He thrust gently, languidly, and you could feel the scalding rush of hot, wet desire pooling in your panties. You barely registered the sound of your own mewling cries of need.

“Not so fast, minx,” Jonathan whispered, a low growl underlying his words. “I want to take a long time over this. Over you. I want to savour your taste. It’s only fitting to make your last night… memorable.”

“But-” It was as if a tightly wound valve had been exploded inside you. “But I need…”

He shushed you with a deep, slow kiss. He tasted bitter, like coffee, with an edge of drugging sweetness. “ _ You _ came to me tonight. You’re mine. Let me take care of you.” He kissed you again, slower this time, his tongue sliding over yours, a slow, hazy dance. You arched keenly against him, your heart pounding, breathing him in. 

“Now.”  Jonathan rolled your bodies so he lay on top of you, and broke the kiss. He kissed his way down the ultra sensitive skin of your neck, his day-old layer of stubble scratching and tickling deliciously. His clever hands found their way under your body to slowly, painstakingly slowly, unzip the back of your fancy dress. The sheets were cool, taut when they met your bare skin.

Momentary insecurity raced through you as Jonathan peeled the dress down to your waist, exposing your lacy bra. It had been a while since any man had seen you like this; a while since you’d  _ wanted _ any man to see you like this.

But when you glanced at Jonathan’s starkly handsome face, you didn’t see any hesitation. Heis beautiful eyes were dark, pupils blown with lust. He looked like a man who had seen a goddess walking amongst men.

You could sure get used to being looked at like this. 

The touch of his lips on the curve of your breast sent delicious shivers through your blood and you arched your back, pressing yourself against urgently the solid wall of his chest. When he reached behind your back to unfasten the clasp of your bra, the intensity of his cerulean gaze made your nipples tighten almost painfully.

“Please,” youbegged. “Touch me.  _ Taste  _ me.” 

“Impatient, are we.” He chuckled, but it was a warm sound, hitting all the right notes in your body. “You’re mine tonight. Say it.”

“I’m yours.” Your voice was throaty to your own ears, wanton.

Your bra disappeared and with a bare whisper of sound, hit the bedroom floor. Jonathan leant up to strip off his own suit jacket and shirt, slipping the small buttons through their eyelets one by painstaking one, and you knew a moment of awestruck lust when your gaze drank in his broad, leanly muscled chest. You closed your eyes and spread your hands over his smooth skin, your fingertips tingling with the gentle scrape of his barely-there whorls of chest hair. The need rushing through your blood was the most primal thing you’d ever experienced. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged you away.

Then you felt his warm breath bathing your breast and he kissed your nipple, laving and rolling it delicately with his tongue. You buried your hands deep in his pile of sunkissed hair, willing him to continue. As he lay on top of you, the hard heat of his erection pressed against your thigh through your dress, and you gasped at the sensation of clawing need pooling heavily between your legs. You wanted the barrier gone; wanted to feel the silk of his cock with no clothing to hamper either of you.

Unhurried,  Jonathan gave your other breast equal attention, kissing and sucking it, scraping the nipple with his teeth until you cried out with the pleasure of his touch, arching up against him.

Your hands found their way down to his shoulders and stroked his back. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet. Patience, minx.” He kissed his way down your stomach and started to ease the rest of your dress down your legs. His fluttery breath on your bellybutton made you arch your hips helplessly. You wanted him  _ there, _ in that aching, screaming spot between your legs. “Say my name.”

“ _ Jonathan _ .” It escaped you on a gasp as he slid your dress to the floor a traced a finger along the seam of your lace panties, stroking over your already swollen clitoris through the damp fabric. Even under the layer you felt his touch as if there was nothing but air between you. “Yes.”

He slipped your panties down your legs and kissed his way down your thighs, stroking yourcalves. Sensation warmed you everywhere, warm and thick as honey. 

Just as you thought he would touch you where you longed to feel his hands and tongue most, he moved back on top of you, kissing you deeply. You felt the hard heat of his thick erection against your thigh, steel encased in silk, and realized he had discarded his trousers. You hadn’t even noticed through the smoky haze of your desire for him.

“You feel like perfection,  _ madam, _ ” he whispered against your kiss-swollen lips.

His busy mouth travelled down your body, driving you to madness, pausing to lave a nipple to hardness, and then his tongue and fingers found your most sensitive spot and touched and stroked, circling that tight bud until you flew apart, your hips arching off the bed, your hands clenching into fists on top of the bed sheets.

You floated back to earth very slowly, feeling like every cell in your body had turned light as a feather. 

Opening your eyes, you saw Jonathan gazing at you, his own face satisfied, like a cat who had gotten the cream. Even though he hadn’t...

His erect cock nudged against your thigh. It was his turn to experience pleasure. “My turn, I think.”

“Whatever you wish, madam,” he murmured.

You kissed his smart mouth and tasted yourself on his lips. As you nipped his bottom lip playfully, you let your hand trail down to where his erection sprang up against his stomach, hard and ready. You stroked his length, feeling his growl against your mouth. Gently you wrapped your hand around him, running your thumb over the damp, engorged tip, and caressed him with the motions you knew would bring him off. His breathing hitched and you felt his cock flex warningly in your hand, a sign he was close to losing control.

He murmured your name, and you circled the head with your thumb again, using the pearl of moisture there to lubricate your fast strokes.

With a groan against your mouth he came in a hot rush, and you felt the hot, sticky evidence of his pleasure against your belly. He kissed you fiercely, cupping your cheek in one hand, and you knew without having to ask, that he wished he could have come inside you.

Jonathan arched a brow as if he knew what you were thinking. “Need I remind you, _madam_, a late check out time can be arranged. I’m not done with you, yet.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just shameless smut :)

God, but didn't he look  _ gorgeous _ , big and bold in the bed, that half-smile gracing his poet’s mouth, like a cat who’d got the cream.

Downstairs, on the desk, in his bespoke, ruthlessly cut suit, he was movie-star slick, perfect. But you preferred him like this, a little rough, a little rumpled. And a lot naked.

Confident without clothes, he made you both tea from the little kitchenette in his quarters. You drank it snuggled together. Your eyes roamed his face, his easy manner.

_ Does he do this with a lot of female guests? _

You opened your mouth to ask the question, and then thought better of it.

_ There are some things that I’m better off not knowing. _

If he took a tumble with a great many female guests, would you have turned down his invitation? Probably not.

You didn’t need to know.

Jonathan nodded towards the big picture window. “Sun’s rising.”

You walked with him to the window, so high up that no one would see you. Fingers of the pink dawn crept over the sky as the sun ever so slowly made its ascent. You took Jonathan’s hand and he responded by pulling you into him, your back to his front. He rested his chin on the top of your head and you closed your eyes, content.

You watched the sun until it glimmered brightly on the horizon, until the world was bathed in the weak, splintery rays of yellow and gold, and then Jonathan led you back to bed, where you dozed for a time, tangled in each other.

*****

You opened your eyes to full sunlight and the scent of croissants, bacon and eggs. Sitting up, your pushed your rather epic bed hair from your face and blinked to orient yourself.

Casual in a forest-green Henley and jeans, Jonathan stood at the foot of the bed with a hospitality cart. He lifted a silver dome to reveal a pile of cloud-soft scrambled eggs, four rashers of bacon, and a pile of pastries warm from the oven.

Your mouth watered.

He smiled slightly. “I asked the kitchen to send up a few things you might like.”

“A few things?!” You grinned up at him. “Seriously. You need to come on prescription.”

You ate together, feeding each other a few bites of pastry. You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was just after eight.

“When do you start work?” you asked, tentatively? He might want you to go, to be alone to start his day off.

Jonathan held your gaze. “Much later.”

“In that case…..” Your eyes on his face, you slid off the bed, then bent in front of him and unzipped, then tugged down, his ancient jeans. He'd gone commando and his already half-swollen cock sprung free. You curled your hand around him and heard his moan of pleasure. Testing him, you slowly ran your tongue around the reddened, engorged tip.

He growled low in his throat, your name falling from his lips.

“I'm not done,” you said teasingly against his erection, giving it another greedy swipe with your tongue. With your free hand you cupped his balls, purring with pleasure at the feel and weight of them. You’d be on a plane later; you wanted to take the taste of him home with you.

You took the head of his erection in your mouth and licked him like ice cream, paying attention to the sensitive area on the underside. Jonathan breathed in deeply and his hands tensed on your shoulders. He breathed your name; a warning.

Sensing he was about to lose control, you slowly pulled away, and then pressed one last, long kiss to the head of his shaft, making it jerk in response. You looked up. Jonathan’s sunkissed hair was wild where he'd raked a hand through it, and his breath came in pants. His eyes had darkened.

He pulled you up to face him. “Minx, aren’t you,” he admonished, but you heard the indulgent smile in his voice.

He pulled you close and his hands stroked down your body to cup your bottom, bringing you flush against his now fully erect cock. You gasped as the tip pressed between your thighs, massaging against you insistently.

He kissed you fiercely, then scooped you up in his arms and walked you both over to the little desk opposite the bed.

You laughed as he set you on your feet.

He flashed you a smile. “Thought I’d forgotten?”

Sensation flooded your body as Jonathan bent to draw his tongue over your nipple. It peaked under his ministrations and you arched your back, clutching your fingers into his hair in delight. His erection lay heavy and red hot against your lower belly. You moved your hips impatiently against it, desperate to feel him against you, inside you.

“Jonathan. Please..”

He smiled against your breast. “Patience, darling.”

You moaned in protest, but the moan turned into a sharp intake of breath when his talented mouth kissed a path down your body, and he blew a gentle breath over the sensitive area between your legs. Your intimate folds ached, begging to be touched, and you squeezed your legs together. 

As you tangled your fingers in his hair, he pressed open-mouthed kisses down your belly, his breath whispering just inches from where you desperately wanted him to be.

“You’re beautiful.” His soft words fanned your skin as he dotted kisses below your belly button and then inside your thighs, where your skin was super soft and oh, so sensitive.

You arched your hips, knowing what you wanted and insane with the need to get it.

Jonathan must have sensed your desperation as he dipped his head and snaked his tongue over your sensitive folds, already hot and wet for him.

Gasping, you felt tremors shake your body as he expertly circled your bud of pleasure with his tongue, then gently sucked until you thought you’d go mad from the white hot, knotty pleasure tugging inside you, filling you up. You came in a burst of light, your body shuddering. Jonathan pressed soft kisses to your thighs as you calmed, then stood, and held you close. When he took your mouth, you tasted yourself.

You writhed underneath him as he turned you over, bracing your hands on his desk. He scrabbled in the drawer for something. You heard a foil packet rip, and he positioned himself at your entrance. The blunt, swollen head of his cock brushed against your over sensitive clitoris and you groaned out loud. Your muscles clenched hard, wanting – no,  _ needing _ him inside you.

Jonathan kissed the nape of your neck, scraping teeth over your skin lightly. You’re mine,” he growled as he brushed his erection against you again, making you squirm with the delicious sensation of his skin on yours. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you groaned.

Whispering your name, he joined your bodies with one sure thrust, and you both gasped with the pleasure of it. He seated himself deeply, then set a rigorous pace, fucking you soundly against the wooden wall of his desk. You gave as good as you got, pushing your hips back into him, arching your neck so he could kiss you as he thrust into you.

As you shuddered under him, on the edge of release, he slipped a hand in front of you and caressed the apex of your pleasure. You bucked under him, sobbing his name, as you came again, pleasure slamming through you.

Jonathan followed you with a hoarse pant, his body quivering against yours. His body was heavy as you both sprawled over the desk, chests heaving, slick with sweat. Your heart pounded, galloping. Your knees were weak.

“Well. I had _no idea_ this hotel had such fantastic service,” you quipped.

Jonathan coughed on a laugh, and kissed the side of your neck. “Never let it be said that our guests leave unsatisfied.”

*****

When you checked out two hours later, you left with his phone number scribbled in a loopy masculine hand on a sheet of thick, creamy hotel paper. He’d stayed in bed as you dressed, and you’d tried to burn the image of his lean, pale body into your mind as you gathered your bags.

He’d kissed you goodbye, his stubble scraping pleasantly on your cheeks.

And you both knew, it wouldn’t be the last time.

You weren't done.

You did leave a bloody good review on Tripadvisor, though.


End file.
